Kyle's words still echoed in my head.
"Go to New York. Stop hiding. Meet people."
Easy for her to say. I wasn't a social butterfly—I was more like a hermit crab with Wi-Fi. Still… she wasn't wrong. If I wanted to move forward, I couldn't just sit in my room forever.
So, I decided to test out my handgun's new "lock-on" ability before making any real moves.
All I had to do was picture someone—just their face, or even a photo—and the gun would mark them like a video game target.
This time, I thought of Dr. Curt Connors. Yeah, that Dr. Connors. One arm, obsessed with regeneration, destined to turn himself into a human lizard in every universe he shows up in.
The moment I pictured him, my left eye burned. A strange sensation washed over me, and suddenly—bam. A vision opened up, like a private livestream tuned only to me.
I could see him. Not a picture. Not a recording. The actual man.
If I whispered "Fire," right now, he'd drop dead. Just like that.
That kind of power sent shivers through me.
---
New York – Oscorp
The feed zoomed into the city. Tall towers scraped the clouds, cars honked below, people bustled about. Inside one building, a particular lab caught my attention.
Curt Connors was hunched over a terminal, typing genetic codes into Oscorp's system. The machine beside him whirred, mixing chemicals into a glowing green serum.
He drew it into a syringe, walked over to a caged mouse missing a limb, and injected it.
At first, success—the mouse's tiny arm regenerated before our eyes. Connors grinned like he had just won the Nobel Prize.
But reality doesn't play fair. The mouse's DNA twisted. Its happy squeaks warped into shrieks. Blood filled its eyes as it clawed the cage, leaving scratches where none should be possible. A minute later, it collapsed. Dead.
Connors froze. His pride shattered. Still, he wiped his face, forced himself back to the terminal, and started recording everything. Failure was just another step forward.
Watching him, I couldn't help thinking: this guy… if he had a "main character halo," he'd change the world.
But in reality? He'd lose funding, inject himself, and turn into the Lizard.
Should I intervene?
If perfected, his serum wouldn't just regrow limbs—it could grant super strength, faster healing, stamina, even evolution itself. Imagine humanity upgraded by centuries in one shot.
The thought made my chest tighten with excitement. Maybe… maybe I could push things off their rails, create a new branch of reality.
I decided: once I got to New York, I'd find Connors. Maybe help him. Maybe not. But I'd see for myself.
And then—ugh. Out of nowhere, I felt like someone cursed me. Probably the author taking potshots again.
---
After closing the vision, I needed to distract myself.
I opened my laptop and searched: "how to draw natural energy into the body." If Connors represented science, then maybe I could balance it with something old—something mystical.
China, India—those places had to have the goods, right?
I dug through sketchy websites, most of them obvious scams, until two stood out:
1. "Energy Infusion" – preaching about channeling universal energy to cleanse impurities.
2. "Knowledge of Energies" by Sheng Che – a manual listing energy types and their uses.
I downloaded both. Time to see if either was real, or just new-age garbage.
Tomorrow I'll leave for New York. Tonight? I'd study.
—